


One More Time With Feeling

by orphan_account



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, Ice Cream, M/M, Sleepovers, movieverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21738034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: some moments between Richie and Eddie over the years
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	1. September 1990

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I posted all these works and I don't like how they're organized or edited so I'm fixing them and putting them all together!!

It wasn't a particularly hot day; it may as well been anything but the first of September, Eddie thought to himself. He twitched as the cool breeze bit at his knobby elbows and impatiently kicked a rock off the sidewalk and onto the road of a store-lined street. An echo of his mother's shrill voice rang in his head, scolding him for not packing his emergency sweater in his school backpack.

A tiny bell rang and Eddie rubbed at his arms again. The familiar tall and lanky figure of Richie Tozier emerged from Derry's only ice cream shop, holding two cones.

"Hey Eds, I got you one too. It's on me." Richie brought the large chocolate ice cream to the shorter boys' face, the tip touching his nose. "And on you."

"Asshole." Eddie muttered, his face pinched as he carefully took the cone out of Richie's grip and wiped his nose. Richie snorted and Eddie muttered a quiet _Stop calling me Eds._ "It is way too cold for ice cream, I don't know why the hell you'd want one on a day like this."

"It’s a treat in celebration of our first and very successful day of high school," Richie said with satisfaction. He bit right into his colourful icy treat. Eddie cringed. "live a little.”

"Yeah, well, you can only handle this cold because you've gotten fatter over the summer." The shorter boy attempted to hide his jealous tone with a teasing one. He shoved him playfully, and Richie grinned back. Richie wasn't even pudgy, not one bit. He had filled out nicely in comparison to Edward's pre pubescent and scrawny frame.

"Well, you know what they say about big feet" Richie said, in his attempt at a feminine voice, high and teasing.

"You know I didn't say anything about feet, so shut the fuck up."

"Whoa there bud. You're getting a little heated considering I just bought you ice cream." Rich jabbed his thumb toward Eddie. "Don't feed him after midnight!" He whispered loudly, his witty remark aimed toward a group of young female passerbys. They giggled at him. Richie smiled as they passed, then grinned back at Eddie.

Eddie's face immediately went beet-red.

"You are so fucking embarrassing!" He said hotly and smacked his friend.

"You stiff noodle, I'm trying to cheer you up! I thought if I put some sugar in you, it would make you sweeter, but alas! My attempts have failed. What's it gonna take?"

The brunet rolled his eyes at the others dramatics. "I'm fine! If anything, your little treats are going to give me fucking diabetes." Eddie shook his head frantically in attempt to shake the thought.

Richie started up into the sky almost thoughtfully for a moment. "Funny faces?"

"Please, no."

Richie stuffed the last large bite of his cone into his mouth. Then he went cross eyed, pushed his ears forward, and bore his teeth like some kind of monkey. Flakes and pieces of wet food of food fell out of his mouth and onto the sidewalk.

"God you're disgusting, I hate you."

"You _luuuhve_ me Eds." Richie sing-song’d. He then casually tossed his arm on the smaller boys’ thin shoulders and squeezed. "Why else would you agree walk home with me every day, despite what your mother thinks of me." The sense of pride Richie so obviously felt was written on his face.

"Maybe it's in spite of her." Eddie tried to fight a grin. "You're such a freak, I don't blame her."

He touched his arm with cool fingers, the memory of last summer almost rising to the surface. Richie's arm felt warm against his and Eddie couldn't find himself to care about the stickiness of the hand that touched his skin. He quietly ate his ice cream as they walked closer toward the Kaspbrak’s street. Rich kept his grip on Eddie as he blabbed a constant stream of his usual nonsense. It was comforting, in a way, and touchingly familiar.

As much as Eddie pretended to hate it...

He didn't hate it.

"Bye Spaghetti." Richie let go when they reached the boulevard and ruffled his friends' hair. Eddie went pink, suddenly confused as to why he was holding back on some of his witty remarks toward Richie today.

"Thanksfortheicecream." He spat out feverishly as he sped toward the front door. _And for always putting up with my shit attitude._

"No prob, Bob. Only for you, Eddie-bear!” Richie yelled.

"Pick a nickname, Jesus Christ." Eddie yelled back.

"Fine! Eds it is then. And there's no need to call me Jesus." Richie chuckled as he walked away, hands in his pockets, whistling, loose change jingling.

Eddie remained strangely happy, despite the strange cramp in his stomach until he fell asleep that night.

Maybe ice cream could also warm a person up, Eddie thought, his face pink against his pillow as he drifted off.


	2. June 1991

In the summer of '91 Richie Tozier decided he would devote every waking hour to playing _Street Fighter 2._

"Fucking... SHIT!" he kicked the damn machine, then apologized to it internally, because saying 'sorry' out-loud to a hunk of metal may be a little too weird, even for Richie. He patted it softly and shoved the fifth coin in.

Richie usually kicked ass at this game.

The ecstasy of winning at something, anything at all, rushed through his body like a high. Richie smoked a cig here and there like every other fifteen year old in this shit town, but he never considered buying a bit of weed.

Until that very moment.

It suddenly occurred to Richie that some marijuana could distract his nagging thoughts and halt him from running his filthy mouth for awhile. _That's something my parents would want,_ he thought; _anything to shut me up for a few hours_.

But Eddie...

Eddie did not approve of Richie smoking. Hell, He doesn't even approve of him (or any of the Losers) being around a _fire pit_ they set up out by the Clubhouse for God's sake. The kid couldn’t get near some smoke without grabbing at his crotch, feeling for his non-existent fanny pack ( _'Fanny packs are for nerds, gays and hippies’_ Richie prompted, age twelve) that holds his non-existent inhaler ( _'Placebo, Eddie. Not gazebo,'_ Mike corrected and laughed himself so hard he nearly pissed himself.)

Richie sighed. He tries not to think of Eddie as a kid because he knows Eds hated being thought of as fragile. He was fond of Eddie, and admired the mental stamina he possessed in order to keep up with Richie every damn day of the week. Richie felt every eye-roll, sigh, and pointed stare that Eddie shot at him when he was being boyishly reckless; as if there were a heavy weight pressing onto his chest. The pain was building up to the point of becoming worrisome, because...

Because...

Richie shook his head, trying not to think too hard.

He did not know why, is what he told himself. It made Richie hot inside and cold all over. It was very frustrating because Richie Tozier liked attention, even the bad kind. At his age, he knew that some negative attention was worse than _other_ negative attention. He knew that this... thing, could be exposed like an open, raw wound. If it were to leak out of him for all to see it would bring forth too much attention for Richie to handle.

There were much simpler ways to ignore these kinds of feelings. _'Cute, cute, cute!'_ That casual teasing voice of his rang through his head, followed by Eds' pitchy screaming and complimentary red face, his skinny, tanned legs kicking against Richie's own.

He felt it again, that distracting, irritating, icky tugging sensation at his heart, along with a prickling warmth in the lower regions of his-

Richie's sweaty palm suddenly slipped off the joystick.

The young boy motionlessly watched the ten second count down, realizing he was out of tokens.

_3, 2, 1..._

The bold words _GAME OVER_ appeared in front of him. The screen reflected back in Richie’s glasses, and the reflection bounced back and forth for what seemed like forever. Richie's vision became blurry through his suddenly wet eyes. His head hurt and his hands felt clammy. He wiped them on his baggy black t-shirt.

"Dude, what the fuck are you _doing_?"

Suddenly someone appeared beside Richie right out of thin air. The pale teen jolted and grabbed at the joystick, then immediately let go, moving his stupid, sweaty hands into the pockets of his holey jeans.

Eddie's brows furrowed as he stared up at the taller. "You look pissed."

"I don't wanna fucking be here anymore." Richie muttered stupidly to the floor. Eddie was tapping his foot while his hands rested lightly on his hips. Bill's soft, grey worn-out gym shorts hung a bit too loose on Eddie's small frame, opposite to the baby blue t-shirt he sported; one he's had since middle school. If Eddie raised his arms even a little, Richie would get a glimpse of his friends' tanned stomach. This was Ms Kasbrak's fault, Richie concluded, since she refused to believe her son was growing out of his old clothes.

"I didn't fucking ask you to leave me on the swings at the park alone, did I." It wasn't a question. Eddie was fidgeting, crossing and uncrossing his arms as he spoke. "'I'm going home' is all you said, out of nowhere, then you fucking ran away of me! You know I can't run as fast as you, jack-ass, you know I thought I had fucking asthma my whole life."

"You still think you have asthma." Richie said tonelessly.

"Fuck you." Eddie spat. "All you fucking do is make fun of my Ma... you stopped mid-joke, and ran here? Are you embarrassed to hang out with me now? Because I kind of figured that might happen. At some point. What's wrong with you? ...You're not saying anything." Eddie's voice became gradually softer as the words poured out of him.

The worry expressed on the smaller boys' face helped Richie simmer down. It made him feel grounded; like a better version of himself. Richie scratched his head, and as usual, said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I want to get high. Like, _really_ high." Richie pulled the fakest grin he could manage. He knew this would send Eddie reeling in all sorts of directions.

In an instant, Eddie's brown eyes widened three times their regular size.

"Wh-what the hell Tozier?" He all but yelled. His eyes darted all over the room, his hand then suddenly clasped onto Richie's arm, nails digging into his arm. "Whuh-what? High? With like… _Weed_?" He said in a furious whisper.

"Careful, Edster. You're starting to sound like B-Buh-Bill. I think you caught something from his pants." The two boys stared at each other wordlessly for a few beats. Richie held in his breath.

"Why do you even want to smoke? First cigarettes, now this. Have you ever heard of this little disease called lung cancer?" He squeezed harder.

"I just need a fucking break sometimes!" He said in a lowered voice and chuckled uncharacteristically. _Because of you!_ He thought guiltily, and immediately shoved that thought away for future Richie. He was freaking Eddie out, and he knew it.

"A break from what? You're freaking me the fuck out dude." His warm eyes were hard and focused, even as he punched his friends' arm. It was a bit harder than usual. Eddie's bony knuckles had left a purply red bruise on his skin for once, and Richie was glad for it.

"Sorry for ditching you, Spaghetti man. I really am. Let's go back outside."

//

"I would never smoke around you, Eds. I know you hate it." He promised, kneeling as he stashed the baggy back into his ratty old backpack. Rich, Eddie and Bill were hanging out behind the school, a week after their freshman year had come to a close. It was the same spot Richie had bought a few grams off a skinny sophomore with greasy blond hair.

"You better not." Eddie scrunched his nose in disgust. "And if you start to smell like that shit I am never coming near your dumbass again."

“Edward is beginning to really cramp my style,” Richie muttered nasally, adjusting his glasses.

"I want to try it, Rich." Bill chimed in. "I wuh-won't try it more than once though." The leaner teen was standing against the brick wall, soaking up the afternoon sun as he scoped out Derry High Schools' field. From an outsider’s perspective Bill seemed like a total creep. He had this funny, overtly confident way of walking around with his chin up, watching others carefully, eyes intense. Richie and the others knew that Bill was simply more observant than other boys his age.

"Let's find a... more secluded spot." He said slowly with confidence. Bill's speech had gotten mysteriously smoother over the past few summers. Richie shrugged and threw his bag back over his shoulder.

"C'mon, walk with us E-Eddie." Bill offered.

"Nah, I think I'll go home." Eddie kicked the ground with his muddy Keds. "I'll see you two burn-outs later."

"Haw-haw. Noice wun, Edwardo. Gotta get yuh final jab at me, eh?" Richie gave his friend two hard pats in the back.

"What voice even was that, retard?"

"No idea, love. Aren't you s'posed to be leaving? Your dear _Mumsy_ wanted you home for fish and chips ages ago." He settled for his less terrible British accent.

"Alright, bye." Eddie muttered with a bitter undertone. Richie watched as he jogged away, disappearing behind the corner of the school.

 _Out of sight, out of mind_ , Richie thought, in voice that sounded much like Stan's.

He pulled his dad's chipped yellow lighter out of his pocket. "Let's do this thang." Rich said as he slid back down against the building.

"Here?" His friends' eyebrows furrowed.

"Scared of getting caught, Denbrough?" Richie teased.

"Honestly, a little." Bill ruffled his own hair a bit. “Don't be an idiot."

“We'll be fine. I bet no one’s been around here since summer break started anyways."

"Wuh-What's with your sudden interest in smoking up anyway?"

"Why are you so quick to try it with me, Billy?" He replied cheekily.

"Stop avoiding the kuh-ku-question." Bill sat down to Richie's level on the pavement, legs crossed. "What's with Eddie?"

Richie shrugged. "He's pissed at me."

Bill scoffed. "That's nothing new. H-He's always pissed at you. Pretends to be anyways. He seems ups-s-set."

Richie unzipped his bag again and pulled out some wax paper.

"Y'know, sometimes... I get tired of listening to all his fucking problems." He gave Bill a tight-lipped smirk as he opened the other baggie and sprinkled some of the substance into the paper.

"How much of this shit do you put in here?"

"He trusts you, Richie."

"Yeah, but, all of us got our own damn problems. You don't see me complaining." The curly haired boy's fingers felt too long and clumsy to roll the joint.

"You could complain to him, though."

The stupid thing fell apart.

"Fuck. Could you be a doll and help me out here?" Bill nodded, taking the paper carefully. He folded it easily with his thin fingers.

Since the start of high school, Richie’s oldest friend Stuttering Bill became something of a hot-shot; a track and field star, batter with a killer swing, and an all-around modern day Romeo. He gained plenty of respect from his peers, and gradually climbed his way up the social ladder. He always knew exactly what to say, sometimes even without saying anything.

"Stay gold, Pony Boy." Richie said in a southern drawl. He snatched the thing from Bill's hands and stuck it in-between his dried lips. It looked a bit fat near the end.

"Psh." He grinned and grabbed the shitty lighter from Richie. "H-Hope you brought a water b-bottle, because I'm not sharing any of mine."

"'Course I did, Eddie reminded me ten times. He also gave me one of his old tap-water inhalers." Richie snorted. He had actually stolen it out of his friends’ bedside table last week, and Eddie hadn't noticed yet.

"Eddie would give you a shoulder to cry on if you needed one." Bill wore a teasing smile.

_I really do need one,_ Richie thought. _But I think this will be enough for now._

"Light me up, William."


	3. 1992

_Hold on_

_One more time with feeling_

_Try it again, breathing's just a rhythm_

_Say it in your mind, until you know that the_

_Words are right_

_This is why we fight_

_This is why we fight_

//

A delicate afternoon sun was pouring into the Kaspbrak's kitchen window onto a teenaged boy washing dishes. The bright sun was one of the only pleasant things on Eddie's lonely Sundays, along with his mother being out at her book club meeting that until later in the evening. When he was home alone, Eddie set up a small radio (courtesy of the Losers, gifted to him at his birthday party this year) and hummed along to the music, sometimes accompanied by some dancing and head-bobs. Eddie was completely lost within the words of Bowie when his heart nearly leapt out of his chest at a pitched sound.

**_BRRRING BRRRING_ **

Eddie swore colourfully then sighed. _It's just the phone, idiot._ He pulled the yellow gloves off and ran to it.

"Hello, Kaspbrak residence, this is Edward speaking"

" _Edward!_ " The voice said with a snort on the other line. " _Very formal, very classy. Does your mom have a script made up for you answering phone calls?_ "

Eddie's face became incredibly hot. "Shut up, you already know that, asshole." He flinched at his voice crack on 'asshole.' "What's up?"

" _I'm so bored. Booored. Would you please come and entertain me?_ " Richie whined.

He sighed. "I don't know dude, I have a lot of chores."

" _Just set all the trash on fire and get over here; oh, and yeah, my parents are out tonight. I rented a movie for us to watch. Pretty romantic, eh Eddie-bear?_ "

Eddie's stomach did a flip-flop. His friends' voice had smoothly dropped down recently in opposition to his height. He could picture Richie's stupid eyebrows wagging, under his stupid, thick, wavy hair, daring Eddie to react.

"Stop teasing me, you're so embarrassing."

Richie chuckled. " _There's no one listening to our call so what is there to be embarrassed about?_ "

"Ugh! Okay, I'll be over in an hour." Eddie hung up abruptly.

He stood in front of the phone for a moment, thinking; _Are we normal? Is this normal?_ This question commonly crossed his mind as Eddie pondered the nature of his and Richie Tozier's friendship. Richie's teasing wouldn't happen so commonly at school. He only aimed affectionate phrases at his friend if they were in the presence of the rest of their friends, or alone. When they were alone, Eddie felt that the teasing was... different. It gradually became more flirtatious. It's ridiculous, Eddie knew, since he was obviously flirting, but it bothered him that Richie only did it because of the reaction he got out of the shorter boy.

 _Because I don't like it,_ Eddie told himself, _I hate it._ Eddie knew that some of his frustrations couldn't be sorted by a clear explanation, and this one was especially bothersome. _But I don't hate Richie,_ he thought. _Not one bit._

At times like these, he wished he still had his inhaler.

//

Richie flopped back on his bed, fidgeting with a colourful 3x3 cube in his hand. He had done a quick Eddie-approved clean up after he got off the phone with said friend. No crumbs on the bed or dishes on the floor, and not a pair of dirty underwear in sight. He had sat through church with his parents, went for a bike ride, then a short walk to pick up a rental of _Back to the Future Part II._

Richie realized he had a hard time sitting through movies on his own. His commentary just couldn't be wasted on an empty room, so naturally, he called his good old pal Eds. No matter what Eddie said in retort, or how much he complained about the taller boy talking through a whole movie, Richie enjoyed the company. They both enjoyed each other’s.

Richie placed the solved cube back on his bedside table and sighed. Eddie was a bit on-edge as of late, and Richie assumed it was a puberty thing. He had decided to follow through with Bill's advice of talking with Eddie. Real, _mature_ talking. They don't talk much, about their families or their feelings, despite how close the two are. Richie didn't always enjoy the constant teasing between them, emphasis on constant. He went a bit too far sometimes, and found himself using better pick-up lines on his best friend than his female upper-classmates who worked at the local supermarket...

**_KNOCK KNOCK_ **

Richie flinched and jumped off the bed, basically slipped all the way down the stairs, and opened the door to see his smiling friend.

"If it isn’t the man himself, in the flesh! Wazzup, Eds." Rich leaned against the door frame.

"You already know what's up." The short brunet’s smile vanished. _Shame_.

"I'm just being conversational. Come in, young boy, I say, come in."

"Thanks." Eddie shuffled his sneakers off.

"Sooo... popcorn?" Richie knew Eddie wasn't treated to the snack often.

"Yes please." Eddie said enthusiastically, and walked into the Tozier's kitchen to (Richie guessed) wash his hands thoroughly. Richie followed closely behind.

He was right.

"Make sure you don't burn the popcorn, Rich, I know you suck ass at cooking." Eddie teased, drying his hands then grabbing a pink can from the fridge. "You could probably burn cereal."

"It is true, I suck many asses. And don't loose faith; if your tiny brain can remember, I made all you guys cookies once." Richie put the bag in the microwave.

"With the help of Stan and Beverly, if I can recall correctly." Eddie sat on a kitchen chair and cracked his cream soda open, taking a long sip. "and that would be considered baking, by the way."

"Shaddup." Richie said lightly.

"Ugh, I sorta can't wait to get a job. Then I could afford to have a whole stash of snack food hidden under my bed." Eddie sighed.

"You'd better count your calories. Y'don't want to become a beached whale like your mother, do ya Eds?" Richie smirked and grabbed himself a coke.

Eddie scoffed and frowned. "Of course not, idiot."

"You'd share your snacks with me, right? Pay me back for all the shit I let you eat at my place."

"Of course." Eddie smiled softly. _There it is_.

"Aw, you love me."

"Shut up." Eddie took another sip, his cheeks matching the can.

"All you ever say to me lately is 'shut up'." Richie laughed.

"Because all that comes out of your mouth is garbage, you big dummy."

"Ouch, that was very elementary Eddie, took me way back. Got a better insult?"

"Yeah, how about... fuck you." His voice cracked on 'about', and this caused Richie to laugh harder.

"I can't help it!" Eddie said in frustration.

"I know, that's what makes it so cute." Richie moved forward and ruffled his sitting friends' hair, massaging his head at the top.

He saw Eddie shiver violently, his eyes go wide and his face an even darker shade of red than before.

_**BEEP BEEP BEEP** _

"...that call is for me." Richie said stupidly, opening the door to the mic and grabbing the hot bag.

"Ow!” He immediately tried opening it, then dropped it. “Ouch.”

"You can't just grab it like that, oh my God!" Eddie stood up and grabbed it off the floor from the top. "You probably burned your fucking fingers. Go run them under some cold water." Eddie opened the popcorn and poured it into a large bowl as Richie did what he was told.

"I'm fine, Eddie, it's just popcorn dude." He shrugged.

"It's hot fucking oil, let me see your hand." Eddie turned off the tap and grabbed Richie’s hand, inspecting the tips. “Is it throbbing?”

Richie chuckled. “A little. Kiss it better?”

Eddie blinked, his friend’s larger, pale hands near his face, his eyes not leaving Richie’s. He pressed his lips quickly to Richie’s middle finger, then thumb, and in an instant, pulled back.

“There, all better.” Eddie said and Richie nodded, lips pressed together tightly. “Let’s go watch the movie I came here for.” Eddie snatched the bowl off the counter and sped to the living room.

//

Eddie curled himself into his blanket, occasionally glancing at Richie who was a foot over from him. The blanket Rich offered wasn’t being used to warm him up. Eddie was warm enough already, but he felt safe under it, as if he wasn’t actually there with Richie. As if didn’t just do a terribly stupid thing only half an hour ago. It wasn’t even a big deal, he thought. They were joking around, and Eddie decided to play along for once.

“Eds?” Eddie startled and looked at his friend. He said the nickname so softly, he had barely heard the whisper coming from his friends’ lips.

_Lips..._

"Yeah...? what’s up?" Eddie looked away and played with a loose string on the wooly blanket.

“Um, uh, how has your mom been lately?”

“Ugh, Trashmouth.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Could you stop running your mouth for once—”

“No, I’m serious, how are you and your Ma doing.” Richie didn’t even smile. His eyes looked hard and serious, as if he were staring straight through Eddie.

“Um, you know.”

“I don’t really.” Richie sighs. “She doesn’t let you do shit.”

“Um, she’s very controlling but… it’s because she cares about me.” Eddie said stiffly, blushing for the millionth time today.

"I care about you” Richie blurted. “dude.” He added weakly. “And I don’t treat you like that.”

“You’re not my mother.” Eddie ignored his rapid heartbeat and rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “You don’t understand what she went through.”

“What? Uh, I mean, What did she go through?” Richie played with the string on his burgundy hoodie.

“Why are you asking me this now?”

Richie shrugged. “M’curious.”

“Whatever.”

There was a beat of silence.

Eddie sighed. “My dad fucking died. He was really sick with some fucking cancer, then I got a flu or some shit and she’s been an annoying bitch ever since. The end. Can we please, in complete silence, continue watching the movie now?” He threw his arms out from under the blanket, burning up more than he ever had.

“Sorry.” Richie whispered. _Whispered_. “I knew he wasn’t… around but you never said anything. Despite all the things you complain about, I never thought this would be at the very bottom of your list of worries. I guess.”

Eddie had never, in his whole life, seen Richard Tozier _not_ crack a joke for this long. He had also never seen the usually comical boy this uncomfortable, and it was tearing Eddie apart on the inside. He knew what Rich was thinking, and what he knew Eddie would ask next.

"What’s up with you? What’s up with your parents?”

“They kind of ignore me.” Richie scratched his head. “I mean, they don’t completely… they just find me annoying. So.”

Eddie hummed. He had assumed, but never heard Richie explain it out-loud before. “I get it.”

“Okay.”

Eddie looked over at Richie. He looked so vulnerable, the weakest he had ever seen since that horrifying summer of ’89. His deep brown eyes were glued on the screen, but they were glossed over, and a bit watery. Richie’s hair was wind-blown, he hadn’t brushed it after his bike ride. There was a mole on his neck, Eddie spotted as he remembered, right under his shaggy hair. Eddie had shrieked to Richie to get checked for cancer, but of course, he never did.

Eddie’s chest suddenly felt incredibly tight.

His body was still warm from the end of his toes all the way up the tips of his ears. His breath caught in his throat. For once in his life, Eddie had no idea what to say to his best friend.

 _Fuck._ Eddie thought. _I’m fucked_.

“Are you okay?” Richie was suddenly sat up and alert. “Eds, you sound like you’re choking.” He laughed dryly, then Eddie tried to speak. He gasped for a breath instead. Richie’s eyes grew twice their normal size.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the taller teen shuffled over to his friends’ on the couch to soothingly rub his back. “It’s alright, Eddie, Edward. Hey, maybe your mom was right, popcorn can kill you. Could you imagine dying from choking to death on a kernel after all that bullshit Bill made us go through? Don’t die on me, Eds, I need you buddy.”

“I’m… okay…” Eddie said in between breaths. “Just felt…”

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yeah.” Eddie felt tears running down his cheeks. Blinking them away in surprise, he realized he had been crying.

Richie tossed the blanket up to fit under with the smaller, then wrapped his arms around him.

“I’m here for you, dude, go ahead and cry.” He heard Richie’s smile as he said this.

“I’m not crying, dumbass. Maybe you should get your eyes checked. Get some new glasses, those are outdated as hell.” Eddie sniffled and begrudgingly placed his head on Richie’s chest.

“That’s my Edward.” Eddie felt Richie’s lips graze the top of his head lightly, but there was no sound.

 _Someday_ , Eddie thought, _we_ _might be able to talk about everything._


	4. October 1992

"This is impossible." Stanley Uris groaned, slamming his pencil down on the cafeteria table.

"Is that for English?" Bill asked, half eaten ham sandwich in hand. "Maybe you should s-s-stop leaving it until last minute."

"Wait a minute, Stan. You're having trouble with homework?" Eddie chimed in after swallowing his bite of apple. "Since when do you finish your shit last minute?"

"Since I started eleventh grade english, I guess." He sighed in frustration, combing his curly hair through his fingers. "S'Not my strong suit."

"I'll h-help you man." Bill reached his hand across the table. "Let me read it."

Stanley shamefully handed his essay over. Eddie couldn’t comprehend why Stan was concerned about this particular grade when he excelled in every other subject. Eddie’s name was up on the honour roll too; not far below his friends’ own, so he at least understood the pressure of staying on top.

Eddie went back to his apple, watching Bill read over Stan’s assignment carefully. Bill always made sense of the nonsensical. He knew how to speak straight from the heart. Eddie’s own strong suits were math and biology, Ben and Mike’s were history, Beverly was an exceptional artist…and Richie…

Richie was good at nearly everything. He didn’t even have to try. Every grade he got was somewhere between an A+ and a B, and Eddie never once watched him slave away, sweat and tears dripping onto a looseleaf (the way Eddie worked when he was alone sometimes.) It was absolutely infuriating.

Eddie suddenly realized that their table was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Hey guys, where do you think Rich ran off to today?”

The two boys looked up at Eddie. “He went home sick yesterday.” Stan said, looking a bit confused. “He didn’t tell you?”

Eddie scoffed. “No. I brought my bike yesterday so I told him not to bother waiting around to walk home with me.”

“Right. Well, he threw up in phys ed and I had to walk him to the nurses office, so I thought he would have told y—”

"What!? He threw up?” Eddie asked loudly, panic in his eyes. A crowd of freshman turned to stare, causing the teen to blush lightly.

“Just a little, he’s probably fine.” Stanley waved his hand dismissively at the wide-eyed boys’ face, listening to Bill point out all his errors on the page. “There are too many facts on the s-story here. An essay is about c-conveying meaning. Use the k-k-character’s motives as evidence...”

Bill’s voice faded from Eddie’s focus as he threw his bag up on the bench beside him. Unzipping it, he frantically searched for a smaller bag.

“What are you doing, Eddie?” Stan squinted at him.

“Just… looking for something.” He mumbled, then sighed, feeling his fanny pack laying safely at the bottom of his red backpack.

“I’m sure Richie’s fine.” Bill assured him. “S-stop by his house after school to make sure he’s still alive.” He gave Eddie a small smile.

Eddie swallowed. “Okay.”

He left after lunch.

//

Richie’s house was fifteen minutes from his own and only five from the school, but the bean pole insisted on walking Eddie home every day. _‘What if you got jumped, y’know, like you used to in middle school?’_ Eddie recalled Richie mentioning this in the beginning of freshman year. He had responded by insulting the other boys’ noodle-y arms and doubting they could win in a fight. _‘But you gotta admit, there’s a better chance with the two of us.’_ Eddie shrugged in agreement.

It was five minutes into his walk in the chill October wind, and Eddie’s nose was already pink and sniffly. He doubted that Richie took a warm shower when returning home from school yesterday, if he really was sick. Eddie knew he was going to have to physically force his friend to get clean if he hadn’t. It wasn’t as if Richie hated being clean, or hated doing what Eddie told him to do; Richie just liked playing games.

 _Of course_ , Eddie thought, _specifically playing games with me._

Richie sometimes pretended to not understand what Eddie thought were perfectly simple tasks. Eddie had a theory that Rich did this out of laziness, a manipulative way to make the brunet do things for him, but he knew deep down that Richie just enjoyed his reactions.

His long, drawn-out, detailed explanations of a subject...

Study sessions, Eddie’s teaching on the benefits of revising and self-testing… ‘ _Boring_!’ Richie would complain, but remain seated on Eddie’s bedroom floor, textbook open on a perfectly sunny Saturday afternoon.

The shoving, the teasing…

And touching.

Eddie shivered. When Richie needed help cutting vegetables, repairing his bike, or hammering a nail, Eddie was there to guide his hands. He even came over to the Tozier’s last week to help the idiot wash his sheets and make his bed; Richie had screamed ‘ _Surprise attack_!’ and jumped on Eddie, crushing him from behind as he was pulling the bottom sheet to fit in the far corner.

Richie held Eddie down, tickling him, ending in the two shrieking with laughter.

Eddie feverishly kicked a rock. The implications of _why_ were there, but Eddie couldn’t trust his own judgement. If it turned out he was right, what would he even do with that information? He lost sleep, just muling it over as he considered every possible outcome. The risk was too high. All he could possibly do was be there for his best friend. Richie was one of the most important people to him in this shit-hole of a town, and he couldn’t risk the loss of someone who is as close to Eddie as Richie was.

With a heavy heart he approached the porch of the Tozier family’s house, and rapt on the door a few times. Eddie rocked back on his heels, spying the small nest up in the tree outside the grey two-story house.

He suddenly heard a small bang, then the sound of a lock, and the door swung open.

"Eds… what’re you doin’ here?” Richie asked with a weak smile. His hair was tousled, his glasses askew. He looked almost as green as the sweat-stained shirt he had on. Eddie pretended not to notice that Richie was wearing no pants; only his black boxers.

“You look like shit.” Eddie stepped back a foot. He felt goosebumps running up his arms, the innate fear of germs along with some questionable physical urges resurfacing.

"I’m totally fine.” Richie lied. He leaned on the doorframe for balance then coughed into his arm. “Just needa sleep it off more.”

Eddie shook his head. “You might need a little more than sleep.” He let himself in through the doorway.

“Breaking and entering, are we?”

“You opened the door for me, so you basically let me in.”

“Basically.” The taller boy smiled sleepily at him. Eddie opened his bag, then the fanny pack, and pulled out a small white mask.

“Why, Doctor Kaspbrak! Are you planning to nurse lil ole me back to health?” Richie spoke dramatically, fluttering his lashes, a hand laying over his forehead as if he were going to faint.

Eddie shot him a look, tucking the straps behind his ears “Do I have a choice? You can barely take care of yourself on a good day.” He couldn’t hold back a smile, though.

“Okay, okay you got me there.” Richie gagged. “God, I can still taste the vomit in my mouth.”

"Did you brush your teeth today?”

“No, I forgot. I was too busy… _BLAAAHG_ -ing” Richie held his throat as he mimicked.

"Ugh.” Eddie made a few additional disgusted sounds for emphasis (and maybe to get a giggle out of Richie) as he pulled a bottle of sanitizing wipes out of his bag. “Go wash yourself while I sterilize your bedroom.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’in.” He saluted and wobbled up the stairs, Eddie trailing a few steps behind.

“Don’t faint.” Eddie warned as the black haired teen disappeared into the bathroom. The last thing he wanted was to help an unconscious, naked Richie out of the shower.

//

Richie’s room wasn’t disgusting, exactly, but it could use some work. For starters, there were clothes from the entire week spread out on the floor. _At least there are no stale french fries on his nightstand again,_ Eddie told himself and sighed. His friend has definitely improved on the hygienic side of things over the past years. He slipped on some throw-away gloves and started piling Richie’s dirty clothes in the laundry basket, which was collecting dust in corner of his room. The walls were covered in posters of everything from _Street Fighter_ to _The Cure_ , so you could barely notice the pale yellow it was underneath.

“Good.” Eddie admired the room after throwing out the last sanitizing wipe he used on Richie’s desk. He then carefully placed Richie, Mike and Ben’s personalized D&D figurines back on top, along with a cheesey joke book and some looseleaf.

"Is everything back to the way you like it, Eds?” Eddie spun around, one infected glove off, the other still hanging halfway off his hand.

His childhood friend stood there grinning, towel hung loosely around his waist, his hair dripping all over his bedroom carpet. Eddie swallowed.

"Yeah, yeah. Basically spotless now, you better be thanking me.” Eddie looked everywhere but his friends’ pale stomach. _He has a mole there too!?_ Eddie thought frantically.

“Thanks.” Richie patted his shoulder. “Now turn around dude, I gotta change. Unless you want me to put on a show for you?” He bit his lip as he made a goofy expression, swung his hips and hummed a stupid little tune.

Eddie laughed awkwardly. He was on fire from head to toe, and he knew Richie would eventually notice. “Um, get some clean pyjamas the other ones were fucking filthy.” He crossed his arms and sat on the chair at Richie’s desk, facing a poster of Princess Leia.

“Alright, Spaghetti.” Rich made all kinds of noises with mouth that resembled a tune of some kind, likely trying to imitate a song he was listening to earlier today.

“You’re in a good mood for someone so sickly, Trashmouth.”

“It’s because you’re here Eds.” Richie ruffled the other’s hair from behind, a common gesture as of late. “You’re always taking care of me.”

“Okay.” Eddie paused, taking a breath to calm his heart. “You still have to take the medicine I brought.”

The brunet turned in his chair to face a sulking Richie. He groaned and flopped down onto his tidied bed. “Knew yh brough thah groh sh’t.” He said into his pillow.

“This ‘gross shit’ will make you feel less like shit,” Eddie grabbed the bottle and spoon he left on the nightstand. “Sit up.”

Richie sat up, head in his hands, fake sobbing. “I don’t want it, mommy! I don’t want it—"

“God, you’re annoying.” Eddie popped the lid open and poured the syrup onto the spoon. “Open up.”

Richie opened and swallowed, all while staring up at Eddie. Eddie remained the shade of a ripe tomato. He handed his friend a large glass of water.

Richie downed the whole thing in one go. “Damn. Didn’t realize I was that thirsty.”

“Now I’m going to check your temperature.”

"Are you sticking it up my ass? I heard there were thermometers that go up your ass.”

“No, ew. This one goes in your mouth idiot.” He zipped open the fanny pack on the nightstand. “Keep it under your tongue.”

"Mmhm.” Richie childishly kicked his legs back-and-fourth, watching Eddie while he waited.

“What did you eat last?” Eddie pulled out and inspected the thermometer.

“Chicken salad sandwich. Threw that shit right up.” He visibly cringed.

“When? Okay, you’re at 100 degrees.”

“About 4am today… damn, is that bad?” Richie shivered.

“Mild fever. It’s probably just a twenty four hour thing.” Eddie sanitized the stick and put it in a new plastic baggie.

“Chicken soup sound good?”

“I think so, yeah. Maybe. I might have some laying around.” Richie rubbed at his arms. “How the fuck am I hot and cold at the same time?”

“You’re sick, Rich, now get under the covers.” He pulled Richie off the bed and opened the covers for him. “Get under there.” He shoved him back in lightly.

Richie smiled and scooted back on the bed, lifting his arms for Eddie to pull the blanket over his chest. “You even put a towel on my pillow. Aw, baby.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said less firmly than before. “that was the least I did for your ass today.”

"You are a perfect housewife, Eds. Please don’t leave me for someone else.” Richie closed his eyes, grinning at his own joke.

“Haw-haw.” Eddie said emotionlessly and playfully punched his drowsy friends’ arm.

//

Comic book in hand, Richie was barely able to keep his eyes focused on the wise words of Charles Xavier when he heard a clear voice coming from outside his doorway.

“Rich, I’ve got the soup.” Eddie walked in slowly, holding a large mug.

“Wh’ took you so long?” Richie yawned.

“I had to let it cool off so you could drink it right away without burning yourself.”

“Aw, Eddie you know I like a challenge.”

“You know you can’t compete against hot liquid, right Richie? It will burn you literally the instant it makes contact with the inside of your mouth.” Eddie talked with his hand moving frantically near his face, like he used to do all the time when they were kids. Some of the soup spilt over the sides. “Shit.”

“Ah, hand it over.” Richie giggled and took the warm mug in his hands. He made a loud slurping sound with his first sip, eyes looking up at Eddie.

“Gross.” Eddie scrunched his nose in the cute way he often did.

"Tastes good to me, dude.” Richie licked his lips.

“That’s fine, but please stop talking and make sure to finish that up. I gotta make sure it’ll stay in your system before I go home.”

“You’re leaving? Why?” Richie asked drowsily.

“Because school is almost over. Gotta be home by 3:30.”

Richie perked up a bit, his eyes widening comedically. “You ditched school to see me?”

Eddie turned away as if he was embarrassed. “Ugh. Be quiet and drink your soup. Drink as much liquid as you can, you’ll feel much better.”

Richie happily drank the rest, admiring his pessimistic friends’ murmurings while he got his things together. The afternoon sun was shining brightly through the window, illuminating his face so Richie could clearly see the shorter boys’ dimples, light freckles, the tiny gold flecks in his large, round eyes… Eddie had the prettiest eyes Richie had ever seen. _For a boy_ , he added quickly.

“C’mere.” Richie gestured a small wave to his friend. “Check my fever one more time before you go.” 

"What? Uh, okay.” Eddie frowned and stood over the bed, his hand laid gently on the other’s forehead.

“How do I feel, Doctah?”

“S-still hot.” Eddie said weakly.

"Thanks.” Richie pulled Eddie’s hand down to his lips and kissed his knuckles. He slowly looked up at Eddie, who just inhaled a short gasp of air.

Richie’s brain felt like mush. “You really helped me today Eds. Thank you, thanks a lot, buddy, really. Okay, I’m tired. Goodnight.” He flipped over, his internal voice repeating, _I’m fucked, I’m fucked in the head!_ and squeezed his eyes shut.

There were a few moments of silence. Richie felt a hand on his shoulder, accompanied by a shaky breath.

Then he felt slight pressure on the side of his forehead right above his eyebrow, a trace of wetness left behind.

“Sleep tight, Richie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Eddie whispered in his ear.

He then pulled away and shuffled out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

“Yeah...” Richie said feverishly to his empty room, and slipped into a dreamless sleep. 


	5. May 1993

Richie remained calm and collected as his dilemma grew bigger than the size of his own beating heart. The uneasiness; a queasy feeling in his stomach rose higher and higher as the days and weeks of high school passed him by. He also felt a strong sense of normalcy and comfort in the way him and his friends’ futures were moving along.

The tired, mop-haired teen leaned against a pole that held up the bleachers, the audience above cheering on Derry’s own high school baseball team; this was not a place where Richie felt comfortable.

Not because of the crowd, though. Richie quite enjoyed crowds.

He was uneasy about the young woman approaching him.

"Hey.” The brunette said shyly, throwing her cigarette out on the grass and putting it out with her mary janes. A little voice in his head warned _‘Fire hazard!’_

“Hey.”

She stared at him for a beat, then asked: “You got my note?”

“Nah, I just felt like hanging out under here to listen to a hundred teens screaming their fuckin’ heads off about a ball.” Richie chuckled and she gave a grin in return. “What’s up? Did ya need tutoring or something, because I don’t exactly have the highest grades in chemistry. If I could direct your attention to Jason Harmer however—”

“No, Richie I wanted to talk to you.” She tucked her shoulder-length hair behind her ear.

If it wasn’t a late October evening, Richie would have been able to see her pinked cheeks. He blinked in disbelief. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” She asked.

"Uh, no, surprisingly. I am not. I know, I know, I’m devastatingly handsome.” He adjusted his glasses, feeling the sweat begin to build around the bridge of his nose.

“So, the two of us can talk then?” She continued curiously, and walked a little closer, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes. Richie’s stomach twisted, either from nervousness or the resemblance of her eyes to someone else’s he knew so well.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. We can talk. Totally fine.” He kept his hands in his navy windbreaker, although they were becoming clammy. “What about?”

Richie Tozier wasn’t stupid, but it’s not as if this kind of thing happened to him more than once: The first being a quick smooch shared with Kelly Greyson after school in the eighth grade. He had kissed before, obviously, but no girl ever left him with more than excitement to tell a disgustingly exaggerated story to his friends.

The other seventeen-year-old in front of him tilted her head to the side cutely.

“You know...” She laughed nervously. “You’re very cute. And kind of funny, so...” She finished with another giggle. _The girl seems to find me very funny,_ Richie thought, _because she can’t stop herself from giggling at me._

“Wow, thanks. For the compliment. You’re not bad yourself.” Richie said, attempting to smirk flirtatiously, still red in the face.

She stepped forward again. Richie came forward as well, and put his hand on the back of her neck. He experimentally gave her a small peck on the lips.

She smiled at that and ducked her head nervously.

Then they shared another.

Then the situation got kind of wet and awkward; Richie’s hands felt clammier than ever. He was worried that the one on her neck had somehow gotten tangled up in her soft hair. The girls’ own arms were still pinned to her sides. _‘Hoist em up here, put em somewhere, what are you doin’ lassie!?’_ He felt like yelling, then realized he didn’t even know his classmate’s name.

He breathed heavily as they parted, then further slouched into the pole behind him, feeling cornered.

“Sorry.” He said.

The girl frowned.

“Look, if you’re not into me, don’t feel bad.” She stepped back slightly, looking everywhere but Richie’s eyes. “I’m guessing you’re into Bev, since you guys seem to hang around all the time.”

“No, no, no. Not Marsh.” He wiped his lips, trying to get the taste of cigarettes off. _‘Like licking an ashtray’_ the little voice in his brain said.

Richie suddenly felt the urge to puke.

“Okay, cool, because she’s the one who suggested I get to know you.” She smirked and adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder.

Richie nodded. “Sorry.” He said again and cleared his throat.

“It’s alright. Thanks anyways Richie, see you in class.” She spun on her heels and waved, her back facing him.

“Cya.” He said helplessly, and gave a small wave in return as she turned out from under the bleachers.

“Shit.” Richie ran a hand through his hair and slid down onto the ground. “ _Fuck_.”

//

“Hey Tozier, did Kelly come see you?” Beverly picked up the bag she used to save a spot for Richie on the bleachers and placed it at her feet.

“Uh, oh her. Yeah.” Richie sat and scratched the back of his head. “Cute brunette. Nice body. She wasn’t that into me though.”

“Oh shit, sorry Rich. I thought she was. She asked me about you.” Bev was more focused on picking off the last of her green nail-polish than the game on the field in front of them.

“Who’s winning?” Richie squinted up at the scoreboard. Derry definitely wasn’t.

“No idea, Stan and I were just playing I-spy.” The redhead pointed to the curly haired boy resting on her shoulder.

“I-spy with my little eye…” Richie said in a mystical voice and Beverly snorted. “…a very sleepy Stan the Man.”

Stanley Uris lifted his head and slouched forward to speak to his friend. “I’m _tired_. Did Bill still want to get dinner after this?”

"I don’t know dude, go out on the field and ask him.” Richie joked.

“Ugh.” He laid back on his friends’ shoulder. “Wake me up when we get there.”

“I am not carrying you.” Richie zipped up his jacket, feeling quite chilly now that he was seated.

“It’ll be payback for that one night you got really drunk at Ben’s place,” Stanley mumbled. “and I had to carry you out to my car.”

“Your dad’s car.” Richie chimed.

“Whatever, man. Is Eddie meeting us there?”

Richie’s stupid heart skipped at the name, as if he hadn’t heard it a hundred thousand times before. “I don’t know. He had a ton of Calculus homework and I doubt he’ll walk twenty minutes in this weather.”

“I think he would.” Beverly smirked. “If you’re gonna be there.” She looked at Stan with a grin and Stan rolled his eyes and nodded.

“What the hell does that mean?” Richie muttered with a frown, not really wanting the answer.

“You guys are— Oh I think the game just ended.” Stan shot up.

“Sweet, I’m hungry.” Beverly swung her book bag over her shoulder, almost hitting a middle-aged woman and her son behind them. “Sorry.”

“So, we lost?” Richie looked at the disappointed crowd surrounding them. “Yup. Definitely lost.”

//

“I’ll get a McChicken,” Bill yelled over his friends’ chatter.

“Extra large fries!” Richie interrupted.

“Chocolate milkshake, please.” Beverly said from the corner of the booth.

“A double cheese burger, a medium soda,” Bill added.

“I guess I’ll have a BigMac. And water.” Stanley said, head resting in his hand.

“Throw in a medium fry.” Bill finished.

“Christ, Bill, slow down.” Mike scribbled down on his notebook the end of the booth. "Ben?”

“I’m good, already ate at home.” Ben said half-heartedly. The rest looked at him, puzzled.

“S-still on the diet?” Bill asked.

Ben shrugged uncomfortably. “Yeah, I only just started noticing a difference last week so… gonna keep pushing through, I guess.”

“Guh-good on you, man. Get me a cup for ice too!” Bill yelled to Mike who was making his way to the register.

“I vill go get ze ketzup.” Rich exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table and stood.

"And napkins.” Stan yelled to him.

"And napkins.” Richie threw him some finger-guns.

The Losers took turns each month, treating the rest to a night out of whatever was of interest in that moment; sometimes it was alcohol (usually a courtesy of Richie, who was the only one slimy enough to steal from his parents), arcade tokens, cheap seat movie tickets or fast food. It was the one day all of them could get together in one place, due to their conflicting schedules.

Richie found himself spending one-on-one time with Beverly more than anyone else (but of course, not as much as the other shorty he knew.) She was easy-going, and never seemed to be annoyed by his god-awful impressions and crude humour. The two happened to share many of the same interests; from music to marijuana, to movie taste…

His hand slipped, and he spilt some of the ketchup on his jacket sleeve as he realized that Beverly and him shared one other taste Richie had forbid himself to mention out loud.

 _‘Wow, Jack Sturgeon has a nice ass.’_ He recalled Bev whispering to herself and the two other boys with her at the lunch table. Eighth grade Richie couldn’t help but sneak a glance, then had to stop himself from nodding in agreement. He flushed. The other boy seated with them however, looked shocked.

 _‘Why the fuck would you look at a random guys ass?’_ Eddie had asked Beverly rudely. _‘That’s...’_

 _‘You wouldn’t understand, Eds.’_ Richie shook his head.

‘ _What wouldn’t I understand_?’ The shorter boy titled his head, scowling very cutely. He took a sip from his milk carton.

‘ _Um, girls. Obviously. They have weird tastes. But dudes look at girls’ asses too, obviously. We do, I mean. I’m dudes.’_

Then Eddie had laughed so hard, milk squirted out of his nose. Richie laughed too, and awkwardly changed the subject after that.

In the middle of this tortured memory, he felt a sharp jab on either side of his torso.

“Ow! Shit! What the—”

Richie turned and saw the familiar brunet standing in front of him, a satisfied grin playing off his lips.

“Eds, what the fuck man! Fuck you!”

“God, that was _hilarious_. You look so pissed. How the tables have turned!” Eddie punched his arm and a cup of ketchup fell out of his friends’ hand.

“Shit. Clean up on isle seven, because that’s how old you’re acting.” Richie said smugly, and quickly picked the mess up with a napkin. 

“You’re one to talk. Give me some of those.” Eddie grabbed two cups, his fingers lightly brushing Richie’s. Richie felt the current pass between them that he often felt when Eddie and him touched. 

They walked to the table together and Eddie sat next to Bill on the end. The boys and Bev shared their hello’s.

“What do you want, Eds?” Richie stood at the table, adjusting his glasses.

“Uh, vanilla milkshake and fries.”

“ _Vanilla_. Of course.” Richie winked.

“The fuck you mean _‘of course’_?” Eddie crossed his arms and sank into his seat. “Sick bastard.”

“Actually, it wasn’t sick, because he literally just _stated_ that you were vanilla, which you are.” Beverly chimed.

“You’re a little shit today.” Stan smiled.

“So are you. And you.” She pointed to Stanley and then Eddie.

“Eds is always a little shit, but I still buy him dinner.” Richie ruffled the seated teen’s hair.

“Gah. This isn’t dinner dumbass, it’s nine o’clock.” Is all Eddie said, so Richie went to the cashier, passing Mike who was coming back with their food.

Richie ordered his friends’ request. When he came back, he took a sip out of the shake before setting it down in front of Eddie.

“Just checking to see if it’s poisoned, Eddie-bear.” He smacked his lips. “I think it’s safe.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I don’t give much of a shit about germs anymore, so that doesn’t bother me.”

Richie made some fake hacking and coughing noises, then reached into Mike’s paper bag to pull out his own fries. All of them laughed but Eddie and Stanley, who was nearly unconscious.

“You should care, Rich is full of disease-r-ridden germs.” Bill said. “W-we found him on the street downtown in a dumpster if I can recall. Poor little guy.” He reached over Eddie and patted Richie’s bushy head.

Beverly added a dramatic gag for effect. “He was so disgusting and dirty he looked more like a raccoon.” She scratched her chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, I definitely couldn’t tell he was human.”

This caused Ben to clutch his stomach and wipe tears of laughter from his eyes. He always found everything Bev said incredibly hilarious. Eddie, Mike and Bill chuckled too. Stanley whined, somehow asleep on the table in the midst of this and muffled a quiet “s’not school yet mom...”

“Thanks guys, love you too.” Richie smiled fondly, then squished in closer to Eddie. “But not as much as I love Eds.”

In the midst of the Losers, his best friends in the whole world, Richie Tozier felt comfortable enough to place his hand on Eddie Kaspbrak’s knee and give it a small squeeze. The others were busy conversing and didn’t notice the smile shared between the two; it was one that was unashamed and natural, a smile that only they could share that somehow showed a deep understanding of one another.

Richie’s hand didn’t move until they left the restaurant an hour and a half later.

//

“Could I stay over at yours?” A nervous voice asked him in the parking lot. Richie didn’t believe he heard that right.

“What?” He whipped his head over to Eddie in the midst of unlocking his car. “Like, a sleepover?”

“No need to get all elementary with the terminology.” Eddie drummed his hands on the back of the car. "My mom got pissed at me for going out. I kinda feel like avoiding her until tomorrow morning, I guess.” He bit his lip.

“Sure dude.” Richie busied himself with getting into his vehicle. “Get in, I was gonna give you a ride home anyway.”

Eddie got into the passenger side.

“This makes the trip easier I guess.” Richie smirked.

“Guess so. Hey, you got an empty bag of mints in here.” Eddie grabbed it off the floor. “I got you these, I thought you hated them?”

“Nah, they grew on me.” He admitted and popped in a mixtape. “I needed them for a hot make-out sesh with your mom.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at Richie’s cheesey smile and stared out the passenger window. “Put on Bowie.”

Richie hummed, pressed skip thrice and landed on _Drive-In Saturday_. The two sat in comfortable silence momentarily.

“Christ, slow down,” Eddie hissed and held onto his seat. “You just got your license, like, last month.”

“Been driving this baby for a year though.” Richie hit the dashboard. Sometimes he purposely drove like a maniac to get a rise out of Eddie. “Gotta get home so the princess can get her beauty sleep.” He made an extremely sharp turn onto his own street.

“Christ! Lord in heaven.” Eddie closed his eyes for a moment, then snapped them back open. “Wha—who the hell are you calling 'princess?'"

Richie yelped when Eddie punched his arm. "Ah, don’t hit me, dude! I’m drivin’ here!”

He went up the drive-way as slowly as possible before putting shifting the gear into park.

“Ugh. I need to lay down.” Eddie held his head in his hands, and ran them slowly through his un-styled, wispy curls. He looked up at Richie. “What?”

 _You were staring, you were totally staring!_ Richie flushed and cringed. “Nothing, get out of my car, let’s go, go, go!” He rushed out and ran to the door.

“Everything is a race to you.” Eddie smiled, jogging up to the door that Richie was struggling to unlock. He shivered. “Put the key in and turn it. Do you know how to use a lock, buddy?”

“Yeah butt-face, my hands are just fucking freezing. There.” The door opened and the boys quietly walked in.

Richie shut the door behind them and threw off his shoes, while Eddie placed them neatly on the matt. “Hot chocolate? Tea?” Richie offered.

“Camomile?” Eddie asked.

“Comin’ right up.” Richie shrugged his jacket off and went to the kitchen to plug a kettle in. “Go upstairs and change into whatever. Clean clothes are in the drawer.”

"I sure hope so.” Eddie muttered, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto his face.

//

"I got the goods.” Richie pushed the door open with his knee, two steamy mugs in his hands.

His heart just about stopped the moment he walked in; Eddie was sitting there on his bed in Richie’s old t-shirt and gym shorts, both of which were too big on him. The boy looked up from the comic book he was flipping through to raise an eyebrow at his frozen friend.

“Cute.” Richie blurted. “Cute, cute, _cute_!” He added for old-times sake, as he set the mugs down on his nightstand and jumped to grab his friends’ cheek.

“Ouch, fuck, stop it! Get off!” He laughed as the taller toppled onto him. Eddie kicked his legs wildly and wriggled beneath him. Richie’s stomach churned as he suddenly felt a familiar and shocking heat, so he decided it was best to get off.

“Couldn’t help myself.” He smirked, cheeks flushed again. “What’re you reading?” He passed Eddie his cup of tea and sat on the bed beside him.

“ _X-Men_. Issue 162, I think.” He squinted at it. “And I believe that’s hot sauce on the page.”

“Wouldn’t be mine without it.” Richie crossed his legs and sipped his hot chocolate.

“Yeah.” Eddie yawned. “Stains are pretty on-brand for you.”

The two of them chatted idly until Richie burnt his tongue on his drink. Eddie laughed at him, and spilt his own on the floor.

“Fuck. Sorry.” He muttered to Richie who stood up to get a towel.

“Fahget about it.” He waved him off and threw the towel over the spot on the carpet.

"I’m pooped. I could go sleep downstairs on the couch I guess…” Eddie stood and stepped over the spot on the carpet.

"Nah man, just sleep here.” Richie patted the bed under him.

Eddie blinked. “There? With you?”

“Yeah dude, what’s the big deal?” Richie chuckled nervously. “I won’t try to suffocate you this time.”

“Just don’t hog the blankets.” Eddie said as he jumped into the bed under the covers, and rolled over to the corner facing the wall.

 _Wow_ , Richie thought in surprise, _He agreed to that easily_. Then he got under the covers too, careful not to touch his sleepy friend beside him.

“Night Eds.” Moments later, Richie fell into a dreamless sleep.

//

Eddie’s sleep, however, was not dreamless.

He woke with a sharp in-take of breath, body shaking furiously.

“Richie?” Eddie said in a confused whisper. The darker haired boy had a hand on his shoulder. His glasses-less eyes bore into him, deep with worry.

“Eddie, you were moaning like crazy. And they definitely weren’t good moans.” He laughed, but cut it short. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

Eddie closed his eyes tightly, vaguely remembering the feeling of exhilarating fear, the _snap_ of his arm breaking, a diseased hand on his shoulder; the fading memories sent shivers down his spine.

“I don’t know.” He said honestly, breathing in deeply and counting backwards from ten. “Talk to me.”

“Um… about what?” Richie whispered, squeezing his friends’ shoulder tightly.

“What you did today.” Eddie breathed.

Richie turned on the small lamp next to him.

“Okay. I went to school…” Richie sighed and sat up a bit, his head resting in his hand. “I smoked a bit with Beverly at lunch… I went to the first yearbook club meeting…” He scratched his chin. “then I went to the baseball thing after school.”

Eddie shook his head. “Bill said you weren’t there.”

Richie blinked. “What?”

"Bill said you weren’t there. In the audience? For like, most of the game.” Eddie looked at his friend curiously, nearly calmed down.

Richie however, felt ill. “I..” He blinked again.

“Richie?” Eddie asked again, highly concerned. “You okay?”

Richie inhaled and ran his hands through his hair. “Yup.”

"You don’t look it.”

There was almost a minute of silence between them.

“Richie.” Eddie smacked his friend lightly in the face.

"Ow, what!” Richie snapped.

“You can talk to me…”

Richie paused again.

Then he flipped on his side, facing his back toward his best and closest friend.

“Okay…”

“Yeah…?”

“This girl from my chemistry class wanted to meet me under the bleachers.” He rushed out.

“Oh—you—huh?”

He laughed humourlessly. “She wanted my tongue down her throat. She wanted my signature, one-of-a-kind, lip-lock, stop-and-drop. She wanted to sex me up. She wanted a ride on the Tozier Train, destination; Fucksville. She—”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Eddie interrupted. "You're usually mouthing off about shit like this all the time." 

“It didn’t go well.” Richie bit his nail.

“I almost doubt that.” Eddie laughed dryly.

“No, it… I… didn’t like it.”

"What? _Why_?” Eddie perked up. He sounded genuinely curious.

"Why are you suddenly so interested?”

“Richie…”

Richie didn’t answer for a moment again. His eyes squeezed together as tightly as possible, childishly wishing this was a dream, praying he would wake up. He trusted Eddie. He trusted him with every inch of his life, and he felt an overwhelming urge to just let-up and tell him the _damn truth._

"Sorry, Rich… goodnight, I guess.”

"I didn’t like it.” Richie whispered finally. “I felt… really… uncomfortable.”

Eddie’s silence was deafening.

"Why?” He asked weakly.

“I didn’t like _her_.” He put a strain on the ‘her.’ _Please, please don’t make me say anything more._

“Oh.” Eddie said. “So…”

"I kissed her and I didn’t like...this _girl_. She was so pretty Eddie, I mean… she… don’t tell Bev, but she was way hotter than Bev. But like, in a different way.” He laughed weakly, then swallowed. “I felt...”

"You didn’t like her?” Eddie asked in a whisper.

“No.” Richie sighed. “I didn’t like her _or_ kissing her.”

He heard Eddie shift in the covers, words almost coming off his lips; just not enough to make an audible sound.

Richie turned to face his friend.

“Sorry.” He whispered. “It’s _weird_.”

“It wasn’t… I mean…” Eddie sounded just as sick as his bedmate. “Dude…”

“What. Just say it.” Richie spat, expecting a turn for the worse. _Please don’t leave._

“Me too.” Eddie muttered, avoiding the other’s eyes.

“Huh?”

"Richie. Me. _Too_.” He repeated it more aggressively.

Richie was shaking nervously, a bit giddy, but also scared out of his fucking mind.

“Really? You're..."

“You touched my thigh.” Eddie said dumbly. Richie jumped up a little. He didn’t expect that.

“Yeah, so?” Richie challenged.

“You kissed my hand.” Eddie’s face was on fire. “When you were sick, last year, you _kissed my hand._ ”

“…so?” Richie’s body was shaking more violently. _Is this real life?_

“Dude!” Eddie hit his arm again.

“Ouch! Why’d you do that!”

“I don’t know!” Eddie groaned and put his face down into the pillow. “I don’t know…”

“Eds…” He rubbed his friends’ back and sighed. “I like boys.” Richie was so shocked by his own bluntness that he almost slid off the bed.

“Yeah, I know, I got that part.” He sat up to look at his friend and took a nervous, shaky breath. “Dude, you like… _me_ …?”

"Okay, please, just—” Richie’s heart was going to pop out of his chest it was beating so God damn hard. “Don’t hate me.”

The brunet’s eyes grew. “Why would I… Richie…”

He grabbed the other’s arm, his face tomato-red. Eddie looked at Richie, then the sheets, then at Richie’s legs, all while licking his lips nervously…

“Oh.” Richie’s face grew into a realizing smile. “Oh.”

“Gah.” Eddie said, hands running through his hair, trying to lie back down. “Ugh!”

"Eds, c’mere…” He remained grinning and grabbed the shorter, pulling him into his embrace.

He kissed Eddie somewhere between his neck and his shoulder.

Eddie _gasped_ in response.

“Sorry.” Richie blurted.

“Holy shit…” He whispered. “I can’t believe this is fucking happening I’m fucking dreaming my life isn’t… this isn’t real, this is a joke… fucking hell, Richie _fucking_ Tozier if this is a _joke_ —”

“Shut up, my God.” Richie stroked the back of the panicking boys’ head. “I am freaking out, okay? I’m going to have a fucking heart attack and throw up all over you.”

“Please don’t.” Eddie pulled back and kissed his cheek. “It’s okay. Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” Richie nodded, his head dizzy and heavy as if it was filled with cotton. “Is this okay?” He kissed Eddie straight on the lips.

“Good, cool. Amazing. Do it again?” Eddie said floatily, still in disbelief.

“You’ll have to beg me for it.” Richie smirked, looking into Eddie’s wide-blown pupils. His eyebrows suddenly furrowed, trying to hold back an amused smile.

Richie gently raised his hands to hold his shorter friends’ face, stroking the mole on his left cheek. “You really are cute.”

“I can just do it myself, I guess.” He muttered and kissed Richie again. “Weirdo. Asshole. You can’t be normal for one fucking second.”

“I am not normal.” He said and started giggling uncontrollably, running his hand experimentally through Eddie’s bed head. “Richie likey.”

“Yeah?” Eddie chuckled nervously.

“Yeah.” He put his mouth near Eddie’s earlobe and kissed it. “Smells good. You do.” Eddie shivered violently.

Richie felt the nape of the brunet’s neck, long fingers playing with the ends of his hair again. “My hand won’t get back stuck here.”

“Huh?”

"It’s short.” He tugged at it. “Kinda nice.”

“Okay. I think you need to sleep. It’s like, fucking four in the morning.” Eddie pulled Richie down and threw the covers back over them.

“Can I…? Like…” Richie started sleepily.

“What?” Eddie looked at the paler teen’s open arms and his hand that was lightly tugging on his t-shirt in attempts to pull him in closer.

“Oh. Sure.” Eddie Kaspbrak shuffled backward into his friends’ arms.

It wasn’t the very first time they had slept this way, but it felt much different than any other time before. Richie had somehow tugged Eddie even closer, his nose stuck onto the top of his head, his arms wrapped around his torso.

“Sleep tight, Spaghetti.” Richie whispered dreamily.

Eddie sighed slowly and deeply in pure bliss as well as content. He decided to ignore his racing mind for the time being and simply enjoy Richie’s warm presence. He felt more at home than he ever had, here of all places; among Richie Tozier and all his comics and trinkets and dirty laundry…

He loved every bit of it.

“G’night, Richie.” He whispered back.

The rest of Eddie’s sleep was dreamless.


End file.
